Page 31 of By Sin To Atone

“So, do as you’re told, and you can message her.”

He’s determined. He’s teaching me a lesson. And he’s not going to let me off the hook. So, I do as he says and step into the shower.

“Happy?” I ask.

“Not yet.”

I look at him over my shoulder.

“Face me.”

“Why?”

“You know what you have to do.”

“Zeke, I?—”

“Ezekiel. We’re not friends, remember. Face me.”

I do.

“You wanted to use the bathroom. So, squat and do it. While I watch.”

I swallow. He’s going to make me do this. In front of him. He’s going to humiliate me like this.

“Squat, Blue, and piss. Then you can text your sister.”

I stare up at him, my heart racing. “You’re sick,” I say through gritted teeth even as my eyes fill with hot tears. I can’t back down, though. I can’t cower. It’s what he wants.

She shrugs a shoulder.

“Will it get you off?” I ask and it’s a mistake, I know the instant the words leave my mouth because he’s on me before I can blink, before I can get away. He grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs my head backward, his predator’s eyes searching my face, settling too long on my mouth.

“I’m a little more complicated than that.” He tightens his fist in my hair forcing tears to burn the corners of my eyes. “Squat and piss,” he says, forcing me down. Once I’m squatting, he steps away, his gaze locked on mine.

And I do it. I look up at him, having to force myself to hold his gaze, to not look away even as my face burns and I do it, feeling the warm liquid against my thighs and Ezekiel St. James watching me, degrading me with his cool expression even as a tear slides down my cheek.

Only when I’m finished do I look away because I can’t hold his gaze anymore.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I don’t answer. “Stand up.” He takes my phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. I stand, wipe my tears, closing my eyes when I hear Wren’s voice playing her part, asking ‘who’s there?’ in three repeated, increasingly anxious voice texts.

“Who’s there, Blue?” Ezekiel asks and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and reach for the phone. He hands it over and it takes me a minute to get myself under control. I do it for her. I have to do it for her. If I’d been there, if I hadn’t dragged my feet because I didn’t want to be home, maybe I would have made it back in time. The difference was minutes. Minutes and she’d be the big sister I remember. But she’s not. And she never will be again.

“Blue,” he says.

I swallow over the lump in my throat and try to block out the ringing in my ears. I hit the record button. “Beets,” I say, hoping she won’t hear the trembling of my voice. I hit send and watch the second arrow show up, telling me it’s been delivered. I see the time. It’s almost four in the afternoon. She’ll be at her physical therapy session. She’ll get it soon though.

I turn to find Ezekiel watching me and the look in his eyes is not what I expect. Not at all. I hold the phone out. “She’ll text me back. And then I can give her the answer.”

He nods once, pockets the phone and it’s like all that aggression, all that hate, has gone out of him and we’re both just standing there, two hollowed-out husks that maybe were once human beings.

“I’ll keep an eye on it,” he says, then pauses and for a minute, I think he’s going to say something more and I’m not sure what I want but then he changes his mind and turns and leaves.

I exhale and suck in a ragged breath. I switch on the shower and stand under the flow, and I sob.

10

Ezekiel

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